Not Gone Home Yet?
by Lancelotlaureate
Summary: Science master Ian Chesterton is lonely. Luckily, history teacher Barbara Wright occupies the next classroom.


The school bell rang on what had been another ordinary Friday at Coal Hill School. Ian Chesterton, science master at the comprehensive, sat as he always did, perched uncomfortably on a stool at the front bench of his laboratory. 4.30 pm, he was still there, but he'd hardly noticed, head deep in a sea of unmarked test papers, barely acknowledging the minutes passing him by. It was always around that particular time when he'd hear a shuffle from the corridor and a little tap on the door. If he heard the knock then it meant his friend and colleague, the history teacher Barbara Wright had decided to stay late. Even though she sometimes stayed beyond the required school hours and it wasn't unusual to see her there, he still always asked her the same question as if on auto-pilot.

"Not gone home yet?"

"Would you rather I had?"

Ian grinned and motioned for her to sit down, not that he needed to, she was already making herself comfortable opposite him on the bench.

"Of course not."

"I'm finished for the night now. Essays are marked, homework is set, and a lesson plan is well on its way for Monday."

Ian laughed to himself. He'd never met anyone as efficient as Barbara Wright. Where she was organised, he was messy, and where she planned ahead, he tended to improvise. It was no secret that science was Ian's passion (being that he'd taught the subject for a number of years) but it was when he was experimenting with new ideas and techniques that he truly felt alive, never keen on overwhelming the students with hard facts. Lately however he'd felt something was missing.

Another contrast between the two teachers was their relationships with their pupils. Though Barbara was strict at first glance and possessed a somewhat serious demeanour, she was a great listener and the best teacher at the school to go to for counsel- whether it was career prospects or personal matters. She had a special interest in her pupils and how to get the best out of them. Ian on the other hand was far more relaxed and completely charming on the surface, popular and approachable, yet he found connecting on a deeper level with the pupils and teachers a challenge. He'd cared about his pupils' well being of course, but lacked Barbara's astute instinct for student welfare.

"I'm still up to my eyeballs," he said, trying to make sense of the stack of disorganised papers on his desk.

Barbara felt guilty for leaving him alone but she'd promised to cook her mother a meal and didn't want to break a promise. She told Ian this and he instantly got up and then lightly pushed her out of the door, telling her not to waste time with him when she already had plans. Barbara smiled and said goodnight, telling him she'd see him on Monday morning. It was always a long weekend until he saw Barbara again.

Ian sighed when she left- back to the lonely room. Staying at the school wasn't the only option though, he could leave his desk and do his work at home, but in all honesty he wasn't all that eager to head back and face a cold and empty flat. His landlady Mrs. Russell was also in the habit of cornering him on the flight of stairs and telling him useless information about the weather, her many recipes, and her grandchildren who she only saw a few times a year because they lived in Scotland. He also found too many distractions at home- living above a betting shop was hardly a quiet location and he was often called down to have a flutter which he often regretted afterwards.

Ian spent many after school hours in the classroom to avoid home. He was used to the quiet, used to the empty chairs and the sound of the evening caretaker tinkering about in the corridors as he scurried to and fro with a bucket and a mop, switching on the light in the hallway so that Ian could see what he was doing when he left. Ian sighed again as the caretaker knocked on the door, letting him know it was time to go home.

…

The next Friday evening, Ian sat in the exact same spot at the exact same time he always did. Suddenly there came a familiar tapping at the door, but this time it startled him, breaking him out of a trance. The door opened slowly and Barbara ventured inside. She was dressed in one of her many skirt suits- this time in a navy blue colour, and her hair was styled into a fashionable but functional bouffant though it was slightly leaning to one side after the long day of work taking its toll. He smiled as he noticed a strand of her hair had turned white from some chalk which must have rubbed off from her hands. He was hardly better presented though, his tie was askew, his cardigan was thread-bare around the sleeves, and his hair had fallen into his face rather than remained neat and parted to the left as it had been in the morning when he'd left for work.

"Not gone yet?"

Barbara laughed. "Actually I have. I'm sitting in my armchair right now watching a wonderful documentary about the Roman Empire. I thought I'd just zap through my television set just to tell you." She smiled playfully.

Ian snorted with amusement. "Oh that's a new one!"

"I came to get some chalk. You borrowed some but I now seem to have run out, and the storage cupboard is locked."

She pulled open his desk drawer without asking and frowned when she noticed packs upon packs of blackboard chalk just sitting in the drawer untouched. Ian knew what she'd spotted simply from her expression, and he feigned complete confusion at her discovery.

"Why is there a year's supply of chalk in here?" she questioned, knowing Ian came into her classroom most days to see if he could borrow some.

"Oh I hadn't noticed that," he said as he shuffled awkwardly in his seat. He looked at her and wondered if she believed his terrible excuse. He could hardly tell her the truth though- that he just liked to go into her classroom and see her in the middle of the day for absolutely no reason at all, except just to talk to her, because he loved to talk to her. Would she understand that?

"Oh Ian, you must take more care," she told him. "One day I'm going to have a jolly good tidy up in here."

Ian nodded and averted her gaze, trying desperately to change the subject and talk about something other than his unusual behaviour. "So I take it you're done for the night? Any plans?"

"No, not really. You?"

"Me? No, no. Where I am at the moment, there's nothing to do and no-one to do it with."

Barbara nodded sympathetically, telling him that he was always welcome to join her at her book club. He appreciated the offer but it wasn't exactly the kind of company he had in mind. He'd have liked to have seen Barbara in a more relaxed social setting and not surrounded by other people. He would have liked to have spent time with Barbara alone, but he didn't want to admit that part to her. There were many things he left unsaid.

"I'll see you on Monday, Barbara," he said softly.

"Don't stay too late."

…

"Ian, are you in here?" Barbara said as she walked into Ian's classroom at 4.40pm on yet another Friday. She sniffed the air and coughed at the sudden aroma that greeted her nostrils. Noticing her discomfort, Ian shrugged an apology.

"Sorry about the smell. I've had all the windows open. Sulphur I'm afraid."

"I'm used to it," she said, grinning.

"So not gone home yet?"

Barbara folded her arms and gave Ian an exasperated stare. "Now that would be a little difficult wouldn't it, what with parents evening starting at five o'clock?"

Ian's eyes widened. How could he have forgotten when she'd reminded him at lunch time? He'd prepared all his notes, and even put on a smart tweed blazer with elbow patches- but it'd still slipped his mind. "Oh I'm sorry, Barbara. I'm all prepared I promise, just a bit tired that's all."

Barbara's stern expression softened as she looked at him. She felt a strong wave of compassion sweep over her, always knowing when the usually cheery and comedic Ian Chesterton was not his usual self.

"Have you been looking after yourself?" she said as she gave him a small tap on the head as if he'd been naughty.

"Oh I don't know. I'm restless, I'm bored I think. I'm irritable too- some days I get so irritable I feel like I could smash all the windows."

"We all get like that sometimes. But for all we know, there's something lurking just around the corner. Something good's going to happen, I just know it, Ian."

"What's happened here? You're the relaxed one and I'm worrying!"

"I thought I'd give you some of your own advice. Take each day as it comes. Something will happen."

"And if it doesn't we could run off to France and I could grow a moustache?"

They both laughed.

…

Barbara entered Ian's classroom on a bleak Friday afternoon. It was darker than usual as the clouds outside were black and ready to unleash a downpour. Upon hearing a noise at the door, Ian looked up and let out a wide grin as he saw her enter.

"Not gone yet?" he asked in his usual way, a slight twinkle in his eye as he greeted her.

"No, not yet," she said, hovering above his desk rather than sitting down. "I've just been on detention duty. I'd forgotten how boisterous it could get in there."

Ian knew what she meant, having taken the detention class many times, and he was always trying to find excuses to get out of having to do the chore. "Stanley Anderson riling everyone up again was he?"

"Something like that."

"Well, never mind, it's all over now. I'm almost done here myself. Perhaps…" he said as he stood up and collected his papers together, putting them into his briefcase. He paused for a moment as he failed to finish the end of the sentence, unsure of how to broach the subject.

"What is it, Ian?"

Ian ran his hand through his thick hair and looked away from her glance. "Well I was wondering- if you're not busy, maybe we could…"

They were interrupted at that crucial moment by the caretaker who had come into the room to empty the dustbin. The man was smirking slightly as he apologised and slipped past them to the corner of the room, glancing back nosily at the pair.

"Sorry, Ian, what was it you were saying?"

Ian looked over at the caretaker, and then at Barbara. He stammered. "Oh nothing. Let's walk out together shall we? I'll give you a lift home if you like."

…

The car pulled up at Barbara's house a short half an hour later and Barbara hesitated before she got out. "Is there something wrong? You're awfully quiet this evening."

Ian forced a smile, not wanting to let on that he was annoyed with the caretaker's interruption. "I'm fine; don't worry about me, lots of things for me to be getting on with to occupy my mind."

She didn't believe him one bit, but she also didn't want to press the matter further and make him even more miserable. She smiled and started to open the car door. Before she left, she crouched down, peering back into the car. "Thank you for the lift, Ian, I'll see you on Monday, yes?"

Ian smiled. "I'll look forward to it."


End file.
